


In Which a Writer Finds a shop

by Crab_Lad



Series: Writers Month Good Omens [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Day 3, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Pining, Writer's Month, coffee shop AU, human!AU, i dont know how coffee shops work, uh anathema ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crab_Lad/pseuds/Crab_Lad
Summary: He didn't have regulars. Until Anthony Crowley, writer, gardener, and annoying pain in the butt continues to show up day in and day out without fail.





	In Which a Writer Finds a shop

**Author's Note:**

> Borrowed this idea from lesbianomens on tumblr. I've never written a coffee shop au before (I don't think??) so i hope i did ok.  
For Day three of the writers month thing!! Day 3: coffee shop

The first day, the man had come in, left his stuff on the table, and then had walked right up to the counter. Aziraphale, as he usually did with customers, greeted the ginger with a faux-interested tone. (He wasn’t one to be rude, but he didn’t want his customers getting too comfortable. They weren’t always fun to deal with.)

“Hello, what can I get you today?”

“I’ll take one black coffee, a muffin, and the wi-fi password.” 

It wasn’t the first time Aziraphale had been asked for the wi-fi password. It was thanks to his unyielding patience that he didn’t freak out every time. Almost bored, he gestured to the “No wi-fi, live like its 4004 bc” sign, while he rang up the man’s total. 

There was a stammer, a squeak, and then a “What the FUCK. You’re telling me you don’t have any bloody wi-fi??” 

Again, not the first time Aziraphale had gotten this either. “No, I don’t. I believe it’s better for everyone to talk instead of using their devices.”

“Then how the hell do you do anything? Like your management or your- your,” he waved a hand around struggling for a word. 

Aziraphale glanced back up at the man. Behind him, Anathema moved to get the man’s order. 

“I do it by hand in books.”

“You’re serious,” he looked shocked, his mouth agape and both eyebrows raised.

Not wanting to discuss it sooner, Aziraphale asked, “May I get your name? I’ll let you know when your coffee is ready.” 

“Anthony, and listen, this conversation? It’s not over,” he looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses with a glare before sauntering back over to his table.

Well, now _that _was a first. 

After that, Anthony had returned, every single day after that with his very own personal wi-fi router. Aziraphale assumed it was from his own home, but he had a sneaking suspicion he had stolen it from someone. His neighbors loudly complaining about the wi-fi being out was his sole evidence. 

This was annoying on three accounts. The first being, Angel’s Cafe did not have regulars. One way or another, the owner would manage to subtly convince people to not return regularly. How the business stayed afloat was a miracle. The second, every day, for several hours, Aziraphale as forced to listen to the clacking of keys. Anthony Crowley, which Aziraphale had later learned, was a writer who insisted in working in this coffee shop. The third was the fact that whenever the man was in the shop, the pre-planned music playlist somehow shifted to play Queen. How this happened, neither party knew why. 

After a while, Aziraphale learned more things about the strange man. He wore sunglasses inside, unless he was writing, and his eyes were a brilliant orange-yellow color. Aziraphale grumbled about them once, claiming that, “Colored contacts are a waste.” To which Anathema had teased him about secretly loving. Anthony was also new to town, as he had moved in a week before he first showed up to the coffee shop. He owned a garden, had a pet snake, and loved to drink black coffee and blueberry muffins. The ginger had also taken to calling Aziraphale “angel” because of the shop name. 

“Angel, I’ll take a black coffee and-”

Aziraphale had already typed it into the machine, “And a blueberry muffin. I know your order by now, dear boy.”

Anthony smirked at him, leaning against the counter. For once the man’s glasses were gone, and instead Aziraphale was faced with the golden eyes. They were stunning... in an unusual sense. 

“Actually, angel, I was hoping you would pick out my pastry today. Whatever you think is your best one. You’re choice.” 

He winked and then retreated to his booth by the door. The wi-fi router blinked innocently by the plant Anthony had snuck in. Meanwhile, a certain shop owner was frozen, face as red as a strawberry. 

“Hey boss, you okay?” Anathema asked, tapping the man on the shoulder. 

Aziraphale shook himself out of his stupor, turning to the woman beside him. He ignored the other man running his hand through his hair, an excited look on his face as he hit a breakthrough. 

“Yes,” he answered. “Just... one black coffee and a crepe.” 

She gave him a knowing look before leaving to do her job. 

Aziraphale quite liked his shop. It was cozy, in his opinion. It had a few tables spread out here and there. They were simple wooden tables, with a little angel wing emblem in the middle. There was a corner booth seat on the far right wall that was rarely occupied. The front of the shop, the side facing the street, had a long winding window that came down about halfway and provided most of the light to the shop. Anathema had put up fairy lights at the counter when she started, and Aziraphale didn’t feel the need to take them down. The walls were a nice pale yellow, and all the wood was a simple birch color. The cash register was an ancient thing that barely worked when it was supposed to. It was a fairly small shop, yet it had a sense of home to Aziraphale. 

Anathema had wormed her way into Aziraphale’s heart, and he not only associated her with the shop but also considered her his closest friend. Now, however, he was associating Anthony with the shop. Which was very dangerous indeed. 

So what if he might fancy the strange man he knew so much yet so little about. So what if he admired the way the sun lit up his hair like fire, or how his eyes seemed to glow when he had inspiration. It didn’t matter that Anthony’s blinding smile left Aziraphale nearly speechless. It didn’t matter. 

Except, it did. Because he found himself watching Antony while he was supposed to be helping an occasional customer. He would look forward to the loud “Good morning, angel.” And the man’s goodbye wave. With each plant he snuck in, Aziraphale stopped berating Anthony for them. They were lovely he had to admit. 

Around four months since Anthony started coming, he brought a flask with him. It didn’t take a genius to know what was in it.

“You are aware I don’t approve of alcohol in my shop, right, my dear?” 

The man just grinned at him wolfishly, “Right, right. This isn’t alcohol, I swear, angel.” 

Aziraphale just frowned and handed over his crepe and coffee. 

“Thanks!” 

He bounded over to his usual seat and set his stuff up. Aziraphale turned to distract himself with cleaning the counters. Then, he moved onto stocking the pastries back up and when that was done, he had nothing to do. He looked up but froze when he saw Anthony looking straight at him. There was a challenging smirk on his face as he lifted the flask up. Aziraphale shot him a glare, daring him not to do it. But then, Anthony turned the flask over and poured its contents into the coffee. In an action that was certainly inhuman, the man drained the entire cup within a minute or two. 

Spluttering, Aziraphale could only gasp out, “What the hell are you doing!”

To which Anthony burst out into loud laughter. It lasted several minutes as all Aziraphale could do was gape at him, but finally Anthony calmed himself down. 

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” 

And, well, Aziraphale couldn’t seem to stay mad at that genuine, bright, happy smile. It was the first real, non sarcastic smile, Aziraphale had seen from Crowley. From then on, he knew he was too far gone for this man. 

He admitted as much to Anathema. 

“I think... I think I like him, dear.”

She had rolled her eyes, uncrossed her arms and stated, “Of course. It’s a little obvious, boss. You should give him your number or something. I’m sure he likes you too.” 

Several more weeks passed where Aziraphale didn’t act upon his feelings. If he was honest, he was a bit of a coward.

“Hey, angel.” 

Aziraphale looked up to find Anthony looking at him. He didn’t have his bags with him and his hands were in his pockets. his shoulder length hair was pulled back into a neat little bun that was new, but Aziraphale liked it. It suited the man. Anthony’s outfit varied from his norm as well, as he had swapped his purely black wardrobe for a white blazer and a gray undershirt. A light pink dusting rested on his cheeks. And, the fact Aziraphale most enjoyed, his glasses were no where in sight.

Straightening himself up, Aziraphale dusted off his creme colored apron and gave Anthony his full attention. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me sometime?” Anthony asked, voice shaky. He rushed the words out as if he wasn’t sure he could get them out. Then his face went blank before correcting, “What I meant was- well. Other coffee. Or... doesn’t even have to be coffee. Dinner? I should have gone with dinner dammit, I-”

Aziraphale interrupted without meaning to, “Yes.”

Anthony stopped, his mouth frozen in an ‘o’ shape. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale continued, “I’d love to.”

“Great! Great. See you uh tomorrow? Wait do you have tomorrow off?”

Smiling softly, fondly, Aziraphale took over, “What about Thursday at 6?” 

The ginger took his hands out of his pockets to shoot Aziraphale some finger guns, “Yes! Fantastic! See you then!” After he spoke, he practically ran out of the shop.

A giggle escaped Aziraphale’s mouth before he could contain it. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked that follow me on tumblr @goodalexomens and @dreams-become-stories. If you're a fellow fanfic writer!! join my discord, it's linked in the end notes of the first two days of this series.  
Also note: you know Crowley's hair with the lil bun in the show when he's on the bus in ep 1 with azira?? ye that's the hair he's got at the end.  
anywho thanks for reading and i want ya'll to know all the comments on the last fic literally gave me a happy mood for the rest of the day today so like. Your comments give me life. LIterally.


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